


To Memory Now, I Can't Recall

by AssassinOfRome



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Celtic music, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan misses Qui Gon so much but doesn't talk about it, Singing, They all have untreated PTSD tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23448955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssassinOfRome/pseuds/AssassinOfRome
Summary: “This was Master Qui-Gon’s homeworld, right?” She asked, watching Padme and Anakin’s eyes widen. Rex, who was taking another swig of the liquor, frowned. When Cody matched him, their similarities were frankly uncanny.“Master who?” He asked, turning to his commander, who stiffened. His gaze was focused on Obi-Wan, who didn’t seem to have heard.“Qui-Gon Jinn. My master’s master.” He admitted, keeping his tone level. “He’s gone now.”Ahsoka asks questions about Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan gives his answer.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze (Past), Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 26
Kudos: 390





	To Memory Now, I Can't Recall

Ahsoka had never celebrated victory inside a cave before, but apparently that’s how they did things on Éire. 

It wasn’t an ugly cave, or even a damp one, regardless of the rain thundering outside. Their little party had nestled against a large grey wall, dappled with chalk-white patches and soft green moss. Rex had lit a large fire, which now crackled in the centre of their gathering, warming chilled fingers and noses. And, of course, the bottle of Corellian brandy Padme had snuck out of her ship after the treaty had been signed. 

It had been an odd sort of a mission, much quieter than anything they had handled in months. Officially, she, Anakin and Obi-Wan were tasked with escorting the senator to her meeting, which seemed like overkill, especially with the clone protection that the presence of such high-ranking generals required. But in her heart, she knew it was the Council’s attempt to keep them from the front lines, at least for a few days. Force knew they needed it; her masters had been hopping around the war since it began, and the strain was showing on their tired, haunted faces. 

What would the holonet think now, if it saw the slump in Skyguy’s shoulders, if it saw how the Hero with No Fear would start at drips of rain water, his flesh hand searching for Padme’s to squeeze tight as he settled back down? Ahsoka wasn’t an idiot, but she wasn’t about to announce what she knew about their relationship, just in case another idiot had managed to sneak into the room unexpectedly. And she wasn’t planning on compromising the wilfully ignorant, she thought, sneaking a glance at Master Obi-Wan, tucked away alone at the mouth of the cave, out of reach of the fire’s warmth. He was staring out into the rain, face carefully blank as his former-padawan cuddled closer to the senator. He wasn’t even wrinkling his nose in distaste, either at the affection or the weather. Master Obi-Wan hated the rain. He was just staring. 

The bottle was therefore passed around with no complaints. Rex and Cody were surprised to be included in the drinking; Padme’s drink of choice was expensive, and they hadn’t expected to be included in such rich toasting, but Anakin had insisted. He’d been a little more cautious with Ahsoka, nodding towards his master but when no opposition came, he shrugged and handed her the liquor. Padme had announced she had drunk much stronger much younger, which lead to a few tales about her time as Queen of Naboo, which Ahsoka drank in hungrily. Any time for backstories had been minimal, and Anakin was so cagey about his own past; she was desperate for any hints on what her friends had been like before she’d known them.

But such musings made her wonder about the other member of their group, curling up increasingly tightly in his billowing brown robe. Padme and Anakin had resorted to a silent conversation with many glances in the older man’s direction. Anakin shook his head a few times, subconsciously opening a pocket on his belt and pulling out a dark, smooth stone, which he stroked his thumb over without looking. It was too large to be a pebble, but too small to be a rock, its black exterior veined with red streaks. Ahsoka frowned; it wasn’t like Anakin to keep organic scraps lying around. Maybe nuts and bolts, but not stones. 

Except… she had felt it before. Anakin didn’t often lose things (R2 and his lightsaber not withstanding) so when she’d found him in their shared military quarters, pawing about frantically, she’d been confused. When she’d asked what he was looking for, he’d near tearfully asked if she’d seen a black river-stone lying about. She’d done her best to tune into the force, and had felt a small light hum coming from inside Anakin’s wardrobe. Eventually they’d found the thing tucked inside Anakin’s best robe – the one he’d worn for a friendly dinner with Padme the night before – and he’d instantly relaxed, even going so far as to kiss the stone’s smooth surface before tucking it away. Ahsoka had asked its significance, and after some pressing, Anakin had confessed it had been a gift from Master Obi-Wan, who’d been given it in turn by Master Qui Gon. Anakin wouldn’t reveal anything more, stating she’d know more when she was older, but she knew from how protectively he patted his pocket that it was more than a mere trinket. 

She hadn’t seen it since, but she’d felt its slight hum a few times. Strongest had been at the farce of Obi-Wan’s funeral – Anakin stood so still he could have been carved from marble, but Ahsoka knew he clutched the tiny stone in his palm, occasionally stroking it when the sobs of Duchess Satine became unbearably sad. And wasn’t that a thought that ached – Satine, who’d lost her life so recently, who Obi-Wan refused to mention, even when her name was the subject of his panicked cries mid-nightmare. Instead of that, Ahsoka tried to focus on the stone’s hum, but Anakin quickly tucked it away again. 

Not for the first time, Ahsoka felt her thoughts turn to the mysterious great-grandmaster she had never known. Anakin and Obi-Wan practically never mentioned the man, and all the Temple had mentioned was that he had been particularly strong in the Living Force, and had been the first casualty of the war, long before even the clones had been created. What had he been like? As a great master, he was no doubt calm and wise, with great talent and humility. Had he been a good swordsman? A canny negotiator? A dedicated scholar? So little had been available about the man. She wasn’t even entirely certain of what sector he came from. 

Unless…

“This was Master Qui-Gon’s homeworld, right?” She asked, watching Padme and Anakin’s eyes widen. Rex, who was taking another swig of the liquor, frowned. When Cody matched him, their similarities were frankly uncanny. 

“Master who?” He asked, turning to his commander, who stiffened. His gaze was focused on Obi-Wan, who didn’t seem to have heard. 

“Qui-Gon Jinn. My master’s master.” He admitted, keeping his tone level. “He’s gone now.”

“He saved Naboo.” A shadow crossed Padme’s face, as she reached around Anakin’s waist to give him a little squeeze. If she had gotten any closer, she would have been nuzzling his cheek. “He brought us Anakin.”

“He bought Anakin.” Anakin corrected, his tone holding a rare wryness. “Well, won my freedom in a podrace.” This was enough to get the clone troopers frowning, and Cody raised one eyebrow. 

“I thought Jedi weren’t allowed to-“ 

“He wasn’t like other Jedi.” Obi-Wan’s voice, slightly hoarse, rang from the other end of the cave. Everyone turned to watch as he stood, stretched and moved closer to the fire. The tip of his hood was covered in rain speckles, and when he lowered it, droplets ran down his back. Maybe that’s why he shivered a little. 

“What was he like?” The question slipped out before Ahsoka’s brain caught up, and she only caught Anakin’s sharp look out of the corner of her eye. Looking into the flames rather than at her masters’ faces, she swallowed. “A hologram can only tell so much.” 

“You’ve seen holograms? How?” Anakin was frowning now, fixed firmly on Obi-Wan, who did nothing but hide his hands in his sleeves and look contemplative. He would have seemed tired in any lighting, but the firelight exaggerated his shadowed eyes and thin cheeks. 

“They still use his example for classes on the Living Force.” She thought back to her initiate lessons, to projections of a tall man with a face cragged like a mountain, smiling kindly behind his broken nose. She remembered his warm raspy voice, and how, even as a tiny child, she had wanted to thank him, and to hold one of those enormous hands. She’d been chastised for attachment whenever she mentioned it, so she’d learned to keep such thoughts to herself. But she still remembered the soothing effect of that hologram. Nothing could go wrong while Master Jinn was talking, she’d always thought. 

“Using a dead man’s face for training exercises?” Padme’s response cut through Ahsoka’s recollections, and she found herself wincing at the other woman’s idea. She spoke the truth, but it had never felt unusual before. The words of the dead were often used in training, whether written or spoken. It was part of their legacy and heritage. But she could see how it could seem manipulative, or unusual. “That’s-“ 

“Padme-“ Anakin spoke sharply, but his objection seemed less philosophical, and more focused on how his master might react. But it was too late, Obi-Wan had already turned to them, breathing in deeply. There was a tightness in Obi-Wan’s shoulders that only worsened with Padme’s accusation, and his mouth twitched. Ahsoka flinched at the thought of yet another lecture, and so was stunned when instead Obi-Wan began to hum softly. 

It wasn’t a meditative hum, but rather as if he were testing out the acoustics of the cave, listening for the echo as the notes were swallowed by the darkness. Glancing around, he could see how Padme and the clones mirrored her confused frown. Only Anakin straightened, blinking faster than usual and leaning forward, his head cocked to the side. His hand reached again for Padme’s, and for Ahsoka’s own. She clutched it back, feeling a tremor in the glove-and-metal fingers. 

_“Of all the money that e’er I had,”_ Ahsoka hadn’t been sure what to expect – perhaps a Jedi hymn that Master Obi-Wan had found in the Archives or remembered from his youth. Other masters had told her the Temple used to be full of song but since the war, the melodies had drifted away. But this was not a Jedi song – it couldn’t be. Rather than a monastic chant, Obi-Wan’s voice was soft and lilting, with an accent she had only heard hints of when her grandmaster was exhausted or ill. She’d heard it more and more as the war had continued, but never quite as strongly as now. She hadn’t seen him smile so brightly either, as he glanced around the fireside with fondness, taking in each of their faces. _“I spent it in good company.”_

_“And of all the harm that e’er I done,”_ Ahsoka watched as her grandmaster’s face creased, his eyebrows pulling together and the corners of his mouth sinking along with his shoulders. As great of a warrior as he was, he’d never taken pleasure in war, had never counted his “kills” even if they were just droids, and had spent most of his post-battle cleaning his lightsaber hilt with a twitchiness in his hands that bordered on worrying. _“Alas it was to none but me.”_

_“For all I’ve done, for want of wit,”_ His eyes drifted closed, soothed for at least a moment. When his face was so peaceful, Ahsoka realised she had heard the tune before. Not sung – never sung – but lightly hummed, when her grandmaster was trying to calm himself from an argument with Anakin, or after a difficult fight, or even in the dark of night when he had the first watch and his troops slept around him in little piles. Ahsoka had never been able to sleep as easily as Anakin, and she remembered falling asleep to that humming, watching the strange and stunning stars above her. _“To memory now I can’t recall.”_

_“So fill to me the parting glass.”_ Ahsoka watched as his hands, now free, clutched at his biceps, his usually immaculate hair falling into his eyes as he hung his head. But still that smile returned, sadder now but still warm. _“Goodnight and joy be with you all.”_

Gently she held out the brown bottle, and Obi-Wan stared at it for a moment, before taking it in his hands. He held the liquor as if it were something precious, tracing his fingers over the label, and up the smooth neck to the gap. In one slick twist, it was opened, and he took a long drink, enough to finish half the bottle. When he resurfaced, he swallowed, and placed it by his feet. His eyes closed again, as he started again. 

_“Of all the comrades that e’er I had,”_ Even though he could not see, Obi-Wan still nodded towards the clones, who nodded back solemnly. If anyone understood mourning songs, it was the vod – their ballads to their fallen brothers still rung in Ahsoka’s ears as she tried to sleep at night. She noticed for once their hands weren’t resting on their blasters, instead clenched tight in their laps as they listened. _“They’re sorry for my going away.”_

_“And of all the sweethearts that e’er I had,”_ At that moment, Obi-Wan lazily opened an eye, and a tiny smirk played around his lips as he glanced at Padme and Anakin. If the pair blushed, Ahsoka couldn’t see it in the rosy firelight. All too soon, Obi-Wan’s expression, the charm and serenity fading into a wince, as he curled back into himself. For the first time in the song, his voice began to shake. _“They’d wish me one more day to stay.”_

Ahsoka had never been reduced to tears by a single word before, but the way Obi-Wan whispered it into the dark broke her heart. She knew she was the wrong audience for it; from the way he almost begged, it was a thought saved for the dead. For Qui Gon and Satine, and their countless troops and friends who had lost their lives to the war. How many more could they lose? She looked around. At Padme, so powerful but so vulnerable in the Senate. To Cody, trusted steady Cody who could lose his life as quickly as a lightsaber slipping out of Obi-Wan’s hand. To Rex, who had stumbled, and fallen and been lost so many times, only to keep struggling through. And to her master, to Skyguy, to the Hero with No Fear, to Anakin. Surely, if anyone would live it would be him – their Chosen One with his golden heart, and ready smile. But he screamed in the night like the rest of them. He panicked. He could lose, and lose as easily as anyone else. He wasn’t bulletproof. 

_“But as it falls,”_ His voice was rasping, threatening to break, but still he kept going. Anakin was clutching her closer, but Ahsoka wished someone had their arms around Obi-Wan, holding him as the beautiful notes trickled out of his mouth. _“Unto my lot,”_ There was a ghost of a laugh in that line, his teeth shining in the firelight as a bitter grin hovered on his face for a moment. Even in her worst nightmares, Ahsoka couldn’t picture Obi-Wan being gone. Perhaps it was because he had already lost so much, or that for all his recklessness hidden behind his calm, he’d never actually been under true threat. Perhaps it was because she’d lost him before, only for him to return to them, not to great relief but stony silence. She couldn’t see him dying, only fading. A voice, a whisper on the wind, never gone but no longer with them. _“That I must go and you…”_ Obi-Wan was shaking all over now, swallowing hard. For the moment at least, he was physical – he was cold and frightened and trying not to cry like the rest of them. But he was the one singing, trying to keep some sense of spirit going. He was still fighting. _“Must not.”_

_“I’ll gently rise and I’ll softly call.”_ He opened his eyes then, and his face relaxed, his sadness mixing into something lighter. She felt the ripple in the force, like a stone dropped in still water, as he released his emotions in one gentle motion. Padme and the clones didn’t feel it, but she saw the same peace cross Anakin’s face, and he eased his hold on her. She patted his hand, and watched. Obi-Wan was clearly finishing his song, so she didn’t want to miss a second of it. He might never sing again, she realised. At least, not for her ears to here. 

_“Goodnight and joy be with you all.”_ As the last line echoed around the cave, and the sound of his voice was quickly replaced by the pattering of the rain, Ahsoka sat back and nodded gently, wiping her damp cheeks. A new weariness settled over them all, and though Obi-Wan sipped again from the bottle, he soon handed it back to Padme, muttering his thanks and something about going to check on the ship. He was gone before Ahsoka could realise he’d left, his cloaked form drifting out onto the horizon. 

“He’ll be back, Snips – don’t worry. He just needs… time.” He looked up from where Padme had started to set up their bedrolls, and from where Rex was tending to the fire, muttering something in Mandoa to Cody that no-one intended to translate. There was something fuzzy about Anakin’s expression that not even the brandy could account for, and he sighed deeply. “I’ve not heard him sing that in so long now. He would save it for nights when I couldn’t sleep, after missions that had gone wrong or great thunderstorms that would send me sobbing into his arms. Always said Master Qui Gon did the same for him. I never believed him until tonight.”  
Ahsoka would have asked more questions, but she found herself overwhelmed by tiredness. Settling herself down, she stared out into the gloom. If she squinted, she could just about make out a tiny brown dot next to Padme’s shining ship, its head tilted up to greet the raindrops. 

If some of those were tears, well she would never know.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by Hozier's gorgeous cover of "The Parting Glass", an old Celtic song which made me think so much of Qui Gon. Check it out on YouTube, and if you can, make a donation to your local COVID-19 relief charity; that was the inspiration for his recent rendition <3 
> 
> Take care of yourselves, stay safe, and have a lovely rest of your day/night!


End file.
